


Honored Still More That He Should Seek My Hospitality

by CaptClockwork



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop, Bad footnotes because they're in style, Book/show monster mash, Gratuitous Bookshop Fic, M/M, Post-Canon, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), You're in no beta country
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-30 23:56:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,588
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19414150
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptClockwork/pseuds/CaptClockwork
Summary: There was a long period after the apocalypse where Aziraphale was unsure what to do, caught between this odd limbo of How Things Were and How Things Were Going to Be. Aziraphale, of course, had a keen idea of what he wanted How Things Were Going to Be to look like. However, the angel found Crowley's thoughts to be a bit more elusive. The demon acted content, but Aziraphale could see something just behind the scenes, something he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t know the demon for several millennia. Crowley seemed...uncomfortable, for lack of a better word.The angel, determined for things to be different this time around, would not let the matter be brushed under the rug.





	Honored Still More That He Should Seek My Hospitality

**Author's Note:**

> Pretty much half written by Kris, Blue, and everyone else on the awesome Good Omens Discord. Thanks for the inspiration, guys!
> 
> Long time fan of Good Omens, but this my first fic for the fandom so I hope you guys like it! Constructive criticism is always very appreciated.
> 
> Title taken from the poem Snake by D. H. Lawrence

Things were different now, after the apocalypse. Where it felt like the 6000 or so years before the end of the world was some sort of roller coaster, going faster and faster, the end of it all felt like a break necked stop, limbs and head flailing forward with the momentum. There was a long period after where Aziraphale was unsure what to do, caught between this odd limbo of How Things Were and How Things Were Going to Be. 

Aziraphale, of course, had a keen idea of what he wanted How Things Were Going to Be to look like. However, Crowley’s ideas seemed to be all over the place. The first week after their body switch scheme went off without a hitch, the demon pretty much lived in his bookshop and in the flat above it, oscillating between trying to help Aziraphale sort out some of the new stock in his shop1, and lounging around in the armchair by the window, lap wrapped with the afgan he kept thrown over the old thing, computing system perched on his legs2. 

The demon acted content, but Aziraphale could see something just behind the scenes, something he wouldn’t have noticed if he didn’t know the demon for several millennia. Crowley seemed...uncomfortable, for lack of a better word. Like he had an itch he couldn’t scratch, or could feel an invisible breeze that was making him just a bit too cold. He would often wiggle in the armchair, adjusting the afghan, the laptop, the chair, before settling down for a few moments only to start the adjusting once more a few moments later. It was after about an hour of this fidgeting that Crowley would usually jump up and start fiddling with things he wasn’t meant to. 

After about a week of this, the demon muttered something about “having to take care of a few things back home” and left without much fanfare. Aziraphale wished him farewell and tried not to think about it too much, just taking the time to get some decent work done without any distractions 3. However, it was lonely and quiet work. Not even when Aziraphale turned the radio on to his favorite station, allowing the sound of gentle piano to fill the space, could he shake the feeling of something missing. 

When Crowley didn’t return by that night, Aziraphale tried not to think too much of it. Maybe he had decided he wanted to sleep. Aziraphale knew he was fond of sleep and liked to indulge in it when the mood struck him. Still, the angel sat alone, eating a meal for one that he had planned on being a meal for two and thinking of how much warmer things felt with the demon around. 

***

It was four days later when Aziraphale finally broke. 

“I’ll just pop in and see what he’s up to,” Aziraphale told himself resolutely as he locked up the bookshop. “Make sure he isn’t sleeping in too long4.”

Aziraphale had mastered the art of lying to himself just enough to get by, sharpened to a fine point from all the years of mental gymnastics of having a demon companion. Now that the burden of having to worry so much about what _Heaven would possibly think_ , he had it free for a few more tasks, such as making up a neat little lie to himself when, in fact, he was swallowing his pride and saying ‘I’m lonely’. 

By the time the angel got out of the cab he had pretty much forgiven himself for giving in so quickly and had moved on to concerning himself that he didn’t look too awfully desperate, seeing what the demon was up to after only a few days. 

The doorman only gave him the vaguest of glances as he found the elevators and made his way up to the topmost floor. He stood at the door to the demon’s flat, just staring at the sleekly painted black door for a moment, still trying to come up with a decent enough excuse for bothering him so soon. 

He knocked gently, the sound still echoing satisfyingly through the hearty wood. 

“Crowley?” He asked through the door, trying to get the attention to whoever was on the other side. 

When no answer came after a few moments of knocking, Aziraphale lowered his hand, slipping it instead into the pocket of his jacket. He thumbed an old and well worn key, the extra that Crowley had given him when he had first purchased the Mayfair flat5. Would it be rude to simply just...walk in?

He stood there, deciding for a moment. He pulled the key out of his jacket and let it sit in the palm of his hand for a moment, watching it catch the light from the electric lamp outside Crowley’s front door. If he was sleeping for this long, he would probably want to be woken up by now, right? 

He slipped the key into the lock, turning it slowly and letting himself inside. 

The light is what he noticed first, a great contrast to the dark hallway he was in before. While Crowley seemed to like to decorate his cold stone flat with modern and impersonal items, the large windows which let in great blocks of light made the rooms feel somehow a bit more warm and inviting than the angel had ever expected. 

Aziraphale admired the space for a moment, having only visited the demon’s flat a handful of times in the past. He eyed the sleek but comfortable looking leather sofa as well as the many electronical doo-dads that lined the adjacent wall and coffee table. He walked into the open kitchen, enjoying the sensation of the heels of his dress shoes clicking against the cool tile. 

He passed through and onto Crowley’s bedroom, expecting to find the demon curled under the covers of his ridiculously large and over-blanketed bed, completely lost to the world within a messy nest of sheets. However, when Aziraphale nudged the door open, he found that the bed was neatly made and very much empty. 

Confusion and something a bit like concern tugged at his stomach, causing him to turn and march instead into the demon’s office. 

“Crowley?” Aziraphale called out, trying to hide the warble of anxiety in his tone now as he pushed the door to the study open. At first, the angel saw nothing but a large desk overlooking a beautiful view of the water. The desk was neatly cluttered with all manner of odds and ends, papers and books carefully arranged piles. He thought this room must be empty too, but as he stepped in further, he saw that the far corner was dedicated to something else. 

Three large heating lamps seemed to be installed, all standing on spindly metal legs, their hot faces all pointed downwards and convening on one large space on the floor. A space that was made of cool glass platform, and on top of that platform was a massive snake, black and red scales gleaming against the reflected light. The reptile was curled in on himself, soaking up the warmth. His head rested on the topmost coil, his eyes closed in a vision of perfect rest. The only thing that gave away that he was, indeed, alive and not some sort of complicated art piece was the flick of his tongue, which caught the air every so often as he dozed. 

“Crowley! There you are!” Aziraphale sighed, not knowing he had even been holding his breath. He walked closer, kneeling down onto the stone beside the snake so he could be at eye level with him. 

The snake in question opened his eyes in what could only be described as a bleary gesture, obviously roused from a deep sleep. When his eyes focused on the angel, however, his head jerked back as if startled. 

“It’s only me, dear boy.” Aziraphale said calmingly, smiling softly into the snake’s golden eyes. 

The snake seemed far from comforted by this, however. He uncurled himself swiftly, and with a sound like rustling fabric shifted his form into something more human and familiar. He was in pajamas and a silk bathrobe, and he pulled the cloth closer to himself as if in an effort to hide. 

“What in the world are you doing here?” Crowley muttered, his voice deep and muddled from sleep. He looked around, taking stock in his surroundings. He eyed the sun dipping over the horizon from the large windows with suspicion. “What time is it?”

“Oh, about five o’clock now, I should think,” Aziraphale said, not bothering to pull out his watch to check, eyes still on the demon. “You’ve been asleep for all four days, I presume?” 

“ _Four days_ ,” The demon hissed in surprise, eyes wide as he made to sit up properly. He rubbed a hand against his face, grimacing at the slight stubble he found there. “Hell, I’m sorry angel, I didn’t expect to be out nearly that long.”

“It’s no matter,” The angel in question sniffed, trying in vain to act as if the absence did not affect him. “I’m just terribly curious what all… _this_ is,” He gestured to the heating lamps. 

“Heating lamps,” The demon deadpanned. “Ya’ know, to keep warm.”

Aziraphale grumbled in what he hoped seemed like irritation and _not_ begrudging fondness. 

“Yes, I see that,” the angel said slowly. “But why the snake form? I don’t think I’ve seen you in your snake form since- since Eden, actually.” Aziraphale surprised himself in this fact, once it had been revealed. How had he not noticed that his friend had stayed entirely (vaguely) human the entirety of their relationship?

“Yes, well,” Crowley hummed, looking down at a spot on the floor as he spoke. “I understand, big ol’ snake. Not exactly the most pleasing form for someone to take.” 

Aziraphale couldn’t help but make a soft tsking noise with his tongue, eager to dispel this worry once and for all, but the demon plowed on. 

“And in any case it’s more relaxing. Find it’s easier to, uh, unwind, as it were, in my snake form. And I do feel like I soak up more warmth that way.” He waved to the heat lamps above his head. “Easier for me to keep a comfortable temperature.” 

“Is that why you’ve been so uncomfortable the past few weeks?” Aziraphale blurted before he could think to censure himself. He cleared his throat uncomfortably, shifting where he was sitting against the hard concrete. 

“I mean- I-I’ve just noticed that you seemed out of sorts, is all.” He finished lamely. 

Crowley stared at him for a moment, as if deciding on if he was going to respond at all. Finally, he sighed. 

“Yeah,” He admitted. “It’s something I like to do. Just not something I normally do in front of others.”

Aziraphale swallowed, thinking again to how he very much wished things could be different. The Aziraphale from How Things Were would shy away at something so obviously private for the demon. But, the Aziraphale the angel wanted to be, from the How Things Were Going to Be, urged him to press forward. 

As it was, he still couldn’t help himself from fidgeting with his sleeve as he forced his voice to continue forward. 

“You don’t need to- I mean to say, you don’t have to stay human shaped for my sake.” Aziraphale inisted. “I don’t mind you as a snake.” He took a shuddering breath. In for a penny, as they say. “In fact, I quite like your snake form.” 

Crowley’s head perked up at that. “Eh?” He asked, confused turning his eyebrows into a furrowed line. “Why on earth would you?” 

Aziraphale’s heart broke at the simple honesty in his tone. And, all at once, it became very easy to let the words flow. 

“Because!” The angel insisted, his voice emphatic now. “Your scales are absolutely _gorgeous_. I remember thinking so the first moment I met you. You’re all black and red, simple colors, but when they catch the light, it’s like a rainbow across your skin. And oh, Crowley, I don’t know how I didn’t realize it before. But watching you just now, you did seem so comfortable. It’s nice to see you at peace, after so long of us running ourselves ragged for our respective higher-ups.” 

Crowley merely looked speechless, as if Aziraphale had let loose a string of nonsense instead of compliments. The angel felt fear lap at his stomach like warm brandy, but he pushed it aside in favor of taking the demon’s hands in his own. Aziraphale felt his fingers twitch in surprise, but he didn’t pull away, which the angel took as a good sign. 

“I don’t want that anymore, Crowley.” Aziraphale whispered, his voice soft. “I don’t want you to keep hiding. From me, or anyone else. And...and I won’t either.” He nodded to himself, squaring his shoulders as if readying himself for a fight. “Not anymore.”

There was a ringing silence after these words. Aziraphale could feel his shoulders sagging slowly, all of his previously found bravado leaving him as soon as it had come. He felt his nerves swallow him up again, his brain devolving into nervous mutterings over how stupid he must seem to his companion. 

Suddenly, however, he felt the soft movement of fingers underneath his own. It was Crowley, shifting so his fingers were under Aziraphale’s wrist. The demon stroked the soft skin there, a gentle back and forth motion with the pads of two fingers. 

“I- I don’t want that anymore either, Angel.” Crowley said, so softly Aziraphale may have missed it if he wasn’t listening. He finally looked up from the spot on the floor he had been contemplating this whole time, straight into Aziraphale’s eyes. Crowley’s pupils were wide, blown out almost to the roundness of a human’s would be as he studied the angel in front of him. Aziraphale smiled back encouragingly, giving his hands a soft squeeze.

* * *

1\. Not one of Aziraphale’s favorites of Crowley’s new pastimes as he didn’t seem to understand the delicate system the angel had in place.↩

2\. Aziraphale wasn’t aware that he got that we-fe thing that made the computers sync up to one another, but Crowley shrugged it off, assuring Aziraphale that he took care of it.↩

3\. This isn’t to say that Aziraphale was unhappy with most of Crowley’s forms of distraction. Once he got the hint that he wasn’t much use as far as keeping the stock in check, he decided to just become more of a general disturbance, starting up conversations about nothing in particular with the angel, conversations that (as they were often wont to do with Crowley) turned interesting or amusing rather quickly. And while it may not have been the most conducive to a productive day, Aziraphale couldn’t deny it was the far superior way to spend his day. ↩

4\. Aziraphale was eager to avoid another hundred year long stint, like that in the 19th century. ↩

5\. Aziraphale has had little use for it since it was given to him so long ago. Crowley treated the bookshop like a second home, but for the most part the angel was always hesitant to visit the home of The Enemy, no matter how many times the demon tried to tempt him over with a bit of wine and a home cooked dinner. Of course, that was As Things Were, not As They Are Now. ↩


End file.
